Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) (19 page)

“Such power comes from one of two places,” said Tuskin, beginning to quarter the skinned deer which hung between them. “Gods or demons.”

“And have I told you so much about my friend that you can determine where hers comes from?”

“Not at all, swordsman. That is a debate for another time. Tell me what she told you.”

“She told me the obvious, that I would be a wanted man by the king, but she also said that in an attempt to get rid of me, the king had hired three of the land’s best killers to hunt me down. Their names are the Butcher, the Hunter, and the Ghost—all former members of the clan of the Condor.

“Speaking of them, they are up to something as well. I came across one who had an interesting story. Things will happen in Krii soon. I don’t understand it all, but I’ve a good idea. The Condor want Snowstone, and I imagine they’ve been up to all manner of collusions to get it.

“A man I met complained of his woman being in Snowstone Castle at the will of his queen. A spy I would guess. I’m sure they know every move Snowstone will make before they make it.”

Zar thought he had gotten a little carried away with talking when he looked at Tuskin to find him already striking flint to start fire, and with the pieces of venison skewered on sticks, waiting to be roasted. Tuskin blew tiny embers into a flame before standing.

“I can fill in the rest for you, I think,” said Tuskin. “I’ll start by saying the same people who want you dead now want me dead as well. They want you dead because the king commands it, and Anza, Queen of the Condor serves Tiomot as a ruse so he will trust her. Of course she really wants his kingdom but that lecherous fool won’t realize that ‘til it’s too late. They want
me
dead because I turned down a job that would put the two kingdoms at war and told them I would fight to keep peace between north and south. It’s as you said, they’ve been plottin’. They’ve been plottin’ and schemin’ and doin’ things to make sure that Snowstone and Cyana go to war. And after Snowstone is weak from battles they’ll swarm in and take the kingdom for themselves. That’s what they want. That’s what they’re tryin’ to do.”

“So King Tiomot has called on Anza to get rid of me,” said Zar, watching the fire’s flames roast the skewered meat. “Aye,” said Tuskin. “But Anza is most careful. She hires us deserters to do her dirty work. The Butcher, the Ghost, and I were all Condor once, but we wanted a different life—outside of the clan—out in the world away from the old laws. We wanted to be free. Your friend must’ve… seen that Anza would call on us three apostates, but didn’t know I would be against Anza. Interesting.”

“It seems she’s limited on the specifics, but a good account overall,” said Zar, smiling at the fact that Ramla
had
said there was something different about the Hunter that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Aye. Well, I have been searching for you, Zar, because you’re the one man that I believe can help me ruin the Condor’s plans.”

“But to what end? If the Condor truly plan to take Snowstone, the conflict is unavoidable. If you plan to oppose the Condor, do we then back Tiomot? If that’s what you’re suggesting, you’re far madder then I believed.”

“Not Tiomot,” said Tuskin with a chuckle. “Dandil.”

“Dandil? Dandil is—”

“A good king,” Tuskin cut in.

“Dandil is the king of the south,” Zar almost shouted. “How does that help us?”

“It unites us,” Tuskin answered. “One land, one king. Or we have this,” the man continued, lifting his arms out to the side of him, “a king in the south who’s a good man but a little selfish and keeps to himself, a king in the north who’s as wicked as Leviathan, and a hidden sect who’s secretly trying to overthrow the wicked king of the north without the king of the south knowing anything about it. Tiomot must not rule here. Anza must not rule here. Dandil of Cyana is the only one who’s fit.

“Dandil is a good king. Have you been to Cyana, Zar?

The people are happy. Women don’t get kidnapped by the king’s men and raped. Dandil’s guards aren’t criminals. Dandil is the only choice. But you’re right, Zar, he is the king of the south. He knows nothing of the mainreach. But we do.

That’s why he needs able men like us, men of the mainreach, to help us unite with the south by getting Tiomot out—and Dandil in.”

Zar looked to Tuskin with wide eyes as if he’d made an important discovery. “You’ve already spoken to Dandil about this?”

“Aye, I’ve been working on it. I could use some help.”

“And what of the Condor?”

“The Condor don’t have the numbers to lay siege on Snowstone, and they never will. They’ve been manipulating Tiomot for years, and that’s the only way they can take Snowstone—through deception. When the mainreach is united with the south they won’t have a chance. They’re relying on a war between Snowstone and Cyana to take the castle, I believe. If that doesn’t happen, they might grow desperate and try another tactic. I’m not sure. I need more time. Dandil has an army waiting and standing by. He’s just waiting for the word. As for me, I’m waiting for the righ t time. The guards in Tiomot’s gatehouse that protect the castle are no army. It’s his retainers in the mainreach that I don’t want involved in this fight—quite a large force in Sirith led by a man named Banas, and others in Vlysa that would come to his aid. I don’t want to start a war. I’m trying to keep the people of the mainreach out of this fight.”

“Impossible.”

Tuskin grinned. “Try to be more positive, Zar.”

19

“It’s really not
your business
what I do,” said Zar. “I’m no hero, all right? That’s why I didn’t do it.
It’s
not
your business, I’m just telling you so you’ll leave me alone! You’re worse than that crazy Tuskin. Aye, you most certainly are. But why would he say that to me, Asha? That’s no kind of thing to say.

“You remember, when I mentioned the pain it would cause us if anything ill happened to Barek and Shahla. ‘
I hope you
never forget that thought
,’” said Zar, tightening his throat ‘til his voice sounded raspy like Tuskin’s. “‘
And if you choose t
o leave without doing
anything, I hope it haun
ts you.’
I’m haunted enough. I can barely close my eyes for sleep without seeing the face of some poor soul I’ve tormented. If he knew what I’d done he never would’ve asked me.”

The two continued their journey west and after three days both Zar and Asha could smell the scent of the sea. It was on the evening of the fourth day that they made it to the Bazhian coast, and Zar immediately asked around for Prynner, and was led to his cottage by a cordial young villager who asked no questions.

The lad only said, “Needin’ a ship, eh? Prynner’s the best there is. I’ll take you to him.”

The door creaked and Prynner’s gentle face hovered in the crack. His eyes focused on Zar, brows furrowed in curiosity. Then the man perked up and beamed. He shouted Zar’s name, flung the door wide open, hopped outside and gave the swordsman a zealous hug.

“It’s good to see Daan has kept you, lad,” said Prynner, warmly.

“You said if I ever needed roof or ship,” said Zar with a smile.

“Aye, I did,” said Prynner, beckoning him to enter. “Come in, come in.”

“Sooner than you expected?” Zar joked, taking a seat where Prynner motioned. The cottage reminded him too much of Barek’s—the small stove across from the sleeping area, chests and crates in the corner opposite the door. It was larger though, even though it looked like Prynner was the only person that lived there.

“Your friends are at the Writhing Eel, an inn down the way.”

“Friends?” Zar questioned, but only for a moment. “Aye, Stroan! And he’s brought his woman?”

“That he has. So you mean to cross the sea? I have just the ship! It’ll see you to the west, no problem at all!” Zar’s eyes met Prynner’s and he could see the same flicker of concern he was sure was reflected in his own. “No problem except Leviathan.”

“Aye, Leviathan,” said Zar, shuffling forward on the quilt-covered crate he sat on. “How do we avoid the dragon? Or how do we fight it?”

Prynner started up in laughter. “Do you drink wine, son?”

“As any good man does.”

Prynner darted off his pallet to the stove area and uncorked a flask of wine. He took a gulp then handed it gingerly to Zar.

“What region?” asked Zar, smacking his lips to savor the lingering flavor.

“From the land across the sea. It’s Tiran Gold.”

“Have you been there?” Zar asked. “To Serradiia?”

“A dozen times!” said Prynner enthusiastically.

“Well, how do you do it?” asked Zar. “How do you get past Leviathan? Have you ever been attacked?”

Zar handed the flask back to Prynner and the man chuckled as he received it.

“I’ve been attacked twice,” said Prynner, taking a drink. “The dragon sleeps in the winter—sleeps on the bottom of the blue.”

“Sleeps?”

“Aye, and very lightly. One winter we awoke him as we crossed over. He flew up over our ship angrier than ever—killed half my crew. And the other time it attacked I was foolish enough to make the journey in the summer.”

“So it’s true,” said Zar with a ponderous look. “The dragon is most active in the summer months. Now.”

“Of a certain,” the man replied. “We see him a few times a summer flyin’ over the waves, but the creature spends most of its time under the water.”

“Has anyone sailed this time of year successfully?”

“Of a certain,” replied Prynner. “So it is possible?”

“Aye, but you must sail quietly, and not disturb the water. They say Leviathan only attacks when it’s hungry or angry. If you’re lucky, it won’t be hungry. If you sail quietly, it won’t be angry.”

Zar grinned. “I am no man of the blue,” he said after another gulp of wine. “Do you think I’ll be able to find a crew mad enough to sail this time of year, and a captain skilled enough to sail quietly and not stir the dragon?”

“Aye, if you can pay them. This city is filled with bluemen, captains, pirates, and the like. You can find a crew all right, but you’ll have to pay them well.”

“That isn’t a problem, friend.”

“It’s as much a risk as playing with fire,” said Prynner, taking the flask back from Zar. “But with luck and the right captain it can be done.”

“Then it’s settled,” stated Zar. “I’m going to play with fire.”

“I’ll pray to Daan that you don’t get burned,” said Prynner. “And I’ll show you your ship in the morning , then we can work on finding you a crew.” Prynner laughed quietly and shook his head as if recalling something funny.

“What is it?” Zar asked.

“Your friends,” said Prynner, “when they found me and I was talking to them, the woman—er, Yuna, I think it is—was feeling sick and needed to sit down. A few minutes later she throws up her breakfast.”

“And we haven’t even started sailing yet,” Zar bantered.

“Aye, that’s what I was thinking. So I ask if she’s all right, if she might’ve eaten anything that would cause it. She says no. Then I remember how my wife used to look when she was with child, and how she always used to throw up in the mornings. So I said to them that maybe Daan had blessed them with a child. All of sudden she looks up so fast, looking scared, and he’s standing there looking confused and kind of worried, and he looks at her then back at me and tells me it isn’t possible.”

Prynner laughed and continued. “I just apologized for assuming that they were together. It just seemed that way from how they acted towards each other. I could’ve sworn they were together.”

“They are, good Prynner,” Zar responded. “They most certainly are.”

“Then why?” Prynner looked at Zar who dropped his head and let out a quiet sigh.

“Things are a bit complicated, I’m afraid.”

“How so?”

“You’re a good man and a friend,” said Zar, reaching forward and patting Prynner’s shoulder, “and the wine is loosening my lips so I will tell you this—but no more. The sickness you speak of happens to a woman several weeks after she is with child, if I’m correct.”

“Aye,” agreed Prynner. “So?”

“So, while those two are certainly together, they have only recently been reunited. They were separated for some time, and have been back with one another for not much longer than a week or two I would say.”

Prynner squinted faintly before gazing placidly ahead into space. After a few more seconds of silence he simply said, “I see,” and continued drinking casually from the flask.

The two had spent almost another hour talking when the older fellow lay down on his pallet and curled up. “There’s another fur in the corner there,” he said, “just put out the candles when you’re ready.”

Bazhia was a grand and old city spread across a pale, sandy coast, with taverns aplenty, and fishermen as numerous as the grains of white sand upon its beaches. Zar and Prynner rose in the morning and headed to The Writhing Eel Inn and Tavern where Stroan and Yuna were staying. Stroan introduced Yuna to Zar who immediately thought she looked anxious and fearful, with big, timid eyes darting around restlessly. She was beautiful, though, with skin so smooth it shone, and big brown curls that hung just past her shoulders.

The four ate a meal at the Eel before Prynner led them to the docks. From the Eel they walked a sandy path northwest, and Stroan, Yuna, and Zar marveled at the architecture of the old stone buildings around them. It had been countless years since Zar had been to the coast, but it wasn’t his first time. For Stroan and Yuna he imagined it was.

They dawdled, gazing about them at the chiseled stone walls of the cottages, shops, and taverns. Life on the coast had dictated that the structures be built from stone instead of timber, for every spring was the season of the tempests, and great windstorms came crashing over the town from the sea.

But the stonework in Bazhia was far from just a shelter from the storm. There were mystique and beautiful carvings of ancient symbols, detailed etchings of dates and important names, and even family lineages engraved on cottage walls—all worked onto perfectly chiseled slabs of stone. It was the art of their city, a hobby for some and an occupation for most. In the old city, if you weren’t a smuggler or a pirate—if you were an honest man—you were a fisherman or a stoneworker.

Prynner brought them to the Stormwind Docks where he led them down the first dock section which stretched far longer than the others that followed it. Zar examined the three ships that were stationed there—one coming up on his right, one at the very far end on the right, and another across from that one on the left. They were all massive—bigger than he’d imagined, and he couldn’t tell if this was because he had been on so few ships in his life, or if Prynner crafted gargantuan models that were far larger than most vessels. Whatever the case, he quickly found the newly built ship at the far end on the left. The timber was still bright and unweathered, and there were no scrapes or chips on its frame.

“Yap, that’s the one,” said Prynner, seeing Zar’s gaze focused on the ship. “She’s my newest, and she’s all yours.”

Prynner quickened his step as he led them on the vessel. Zar, Stroan, and Yuna gazed upon the craft as Prynner smiled. Its wood was shining as if it had just been stained— amber in color with the waves reflected in its luster. The sides were tall and steep, and the mast reached high with the sail rolled up and bound to it.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” said Prynner. “She’s called the Lucky Dolphin.”

“Lucky,” Zar muttered, still examining the ship.

“Lucky,” repeated Prynner, “and let’s hope it, son.

Let’s hope she is.”

After boarding the Dolphin, and being given the grand tour of the vessel by Prynner, the man suggested it was time to find their captain and crew. So they headed off into the city, led by Prynner, and visited the beach then several of the city’s taverns. Yuna looked quite unwell after a time of walking, and Zar insisted she let Asha carry her.

Zar offered twenty pieces of gold to any sailor of fisherman who had knowledge of the sea, and an even larger sum for any captain that could promise he could get them across to the west without fail. After six hours the party had grown by seven, but they still had not come across a captain who was certain he could lead the voyage successfully during the season of the dragon. He was mostly offered wide eyes when Zar told them when he wished to travel—wide eyes, or laughs.

From their walk along the beaches and through the city they had added to their numbers Arvii, a strong-looking lad who, despite being quite young, insisted he had made the voyage across to Serradiia and back five times in three winters; Tavin and Juuma, two fisherman brothers; Jareb the whale hunter; Dover, a middle-aged sailor who admitted that his last captain died on an attempted expedition across the sea; Landis, a lesser known shipwright who drew much of his inspiration from Prynner’s work; and Raff, a loud- mouthed sailor—or pirate, the accounts varied from different members of the party—who claimed there was only one captain skilled enough to get them across the sea and only one place he was to be found.

“To Two Shores Tavern!” yelled Raff, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “Captain Blue’s likely there getting drunk right now!”

The group had only been with Raff for about a half hour, and they were all still getting used to the man’s dynamism. Every time he spoke it sounded like he was shouting, and his animated body shuffled about as his hands corresponded in some manner of gesticulation.

“Captain Blue?” asked Dover in a voice that sounded like a whisper compared to Raff’s. “You mean the
pirate
Earnrich Blue?”

“Aye, Captain Blue!”

Zar looked about the group to find that all of their faces had contorted into expressions of amazement or disdain after hearing this man’s name.

Dover stepped up quickly to Zar and said, “Surely we can find a better captain than
that
thief!”

“Can the thief get us there?” said Jareb, his deep voice floating down from his head that towered almost two feet above the rest of them. “That’s all I care about.”

“But can we trust the man,” Tavin spoke up, wearing a calm smile and standing tall beside his brother. “He is a pirate.”

“That he is, lad,” said Raff. “So we can trust him. We can trust him to drink, whore, curse, and toughen you tender lads up! And we can trust him to sail us to Serradiia and back if your man here pays him well.” Raff laughed for a bit then pointed at Zar. “It depends on you, Zar. Can you pay him well?”

Zar reached into his boot and pulled out a shiny gemstone—leaving it in sight just long enough for the group to see before tucking it in his hand. “Of a certain,” he replied. “You don’t think I’d come empty-handed? If he can do the job, I’ll pay him well. Now take me to him.”

Following Raff, the group made their way to the southernmost neck of the city while staying on the coastline. The tavern they sought was almost three miles down the coast, and the group became more acquainted with each other as they spent more than an hour trudging over pebbles and damp sand.

Arvii was an orphan. Both of his parents had died at sea, and the lad joked that he would probably do the same. He had told the group this casually and of his own accord, his boyish face grinning candidly. Landis admitted he had always been jealous of Prynner, and had come every morning to the Stormwind Docks to admire the architecture of his ships. The brothers, Tavin and Juuma, mostly talked among themselves, but they did mention something to the group about being the best fishermen in Bazhia. Dover shared most of his conversation with Jareb, and no matter what the two spoke of, the topic seemed to always come back around to women. And Raff could be heard at all times—interrupting conversations to add in his own opinions, or starting new conversations with little more than one full- mouthed and half-witted statement with which he would bellow out in laughter and zealously pat or nudge the nearest person to him.